


Stay The Night

by saintroux



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2016-2017 NHL Season, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Barebacking, Drunk Sex, F/M, Multi, Polyamory, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-26 14:53:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15665457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintroux/pseuds/saintroux
Summary: Anya was lounging around in one of the overstuffed chairs on the deck, nursing the last few sips of her wine, when a warm hand settled into the curve of her neck.  She thought maybe it might be Zhenya, come to collect her and head home, but when she tipped her head back, it was only Sid.





	Stay The Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nuttymussel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuttymussel/gifts).



> Based on the prompt "bad pick-up lines" because for some reason i can't stop thinking about Sid being terribly corny and feeling terribly pleased with himself about it.

Anya was lounging around in one of the overstuffed chairs on the deck, nursing the last few sips of her wine, when a warm hand settled into the curve of her neck. She thought maybe it might be Zhenya, come to collect her and head home, but when she tipped her head back, it was only Sid.

She looked around, but no one was looking their way—the remaining guests still gathered by the diving board, passing around a bottle of champagne. Someone’s girlfriend was already passed out, curled up with her head pillowed in their lap.

Anya felt like she was fading too, a little sleepy from all of the excitement of a long playoff run. Before Sid had appeared, she had been idly contemplating getting up to find Zhenya, but the wine made her legs feel heavy. He could pick her up and carry her to a cab if he needed to; probably Sid wouldn’t mind if she just fell asleep out here for a while. 

“You come here often?” Sid asked, smirking crookedly, his teeth gleaming white in the dark. He was temptingly bare chested, his shorts clinging to his thighs, his skin and hair damp from wading around in the pool. 

“Not so often,” she said, allowing herself to turn and look at him for as long as she wanted, aided by the cover of darkness. It was true that she wasn’t here much. Sid mostly liked to come over to their house, where he could entertain himself with the baby. She could count the amount of times she had been to his house on two hands. 

“You should come inside,” Sid said, his voice low and flirty, the way it got when he was drunk and thought he was being incredibly smooth. She was charmed anyway, still a little smitten with his attentions. He didn’t need to be smooth if he kept looking like that. “Geno is passed out—told me he was going inside to change, but you know how he is—out like a light.”

Anya sure did know. Zhenya had been yawning on the drive over, trying to disguise it by scratching at his nose. “He tries to sleep before party,” Anya said, “old man.”

Sid laughed at that, his weird laugh that never failed to make Anya laugh in turn, and pressed his other hand against her neck, rubbing idly at her shoulders, turning her body slowly into liquid. His hands were warm, and rough from a long season, and she closed her eyes. In that moment, she thought maybe nothing had ever felt better. 

“Come inside, c’mon—“ Sid urged, running his hands back through her hair. “Everyone left can fend for themselves, eh?” 

He extended a hand to her, and she hesitated for a moment. She hadn’t intended for them to stay the night; she didn’t want to intrude on Sid’s private space. She had thought that maybe he wanted more time with his friends—with Marc, who was leaving the team after so long—or maybe he just wanted to sleep alone. They would see each other tomorrow, probably, and the subsequent days after. She and Zhenya wouldn’t leave for Miami for at least another week; there was plenty of time.

“I can wake Zhenya,” she said, letting Sid haul her to her feet. She tottered a little, her legs still waking up, and Sid steadied her with an arm around her waist. Up close, she could see the sunburn blooming over his nose, the damp curve of his freshly-shaven jaw. She thought briefly about kissing him there, but she was still a little worried that people would see. 

“No, don’t—“ Sid said, his arm still holding her, his hand rubbing idly at the side of her waist. She wished they were inside, where he could put his hand on her bare skin, the spot where she was most ticklish. 

“Stay the night,” he said, “please?” He flashed her a small, hopeful smile, sweet and turned up. All of her excuses felt flimsy now, faced with the force of his blatant desire. 

“Okay,” she said, and followed him in through the patio door, leaving her wineglass abandoned outside. In the house, only the lamps were on, illuminating everything in a soft, hazy glow. 

“I’m so happy to share this with you,” Sid said, once the door was locked and the curtains pulled closed. He crowded her up against the wall, palms eager against her clothes, handsy and honest the way he always was when he got drunk enough. “Both of you.” 

“Happy—” she said, and touched her hand to his cheek and pressed up to kiss him. Sid’s mouth tasted like he’d been drinking for twenty-four hours, which he had, his tongue warm where it passed over her lower lip. He stepped closer, pulling her body toward his until they were flush from chests to knees. The fabric of his swim trunks was damp against the front of her dress, and she felt herself sagging into him.

She hadn’t spoken to him much throughout the night, as he played host and flitted from teammate to teammate, splashing around in the pool. Around sunset, Zhenya had come up to her in the grass and dropped a plate of finger foods in her hands and whispered in her ear. 

“Were you watching us?” Zhenya had asked, knowing full well that she was. Sid had deigned, at one point, to let the cup out of his sight, and Zhenya had crowded in close, stealing Sid’s beer and laughing and tucking his face into Sid’s neck. Anya had bubbled over—watching them share the exuberance of yet another fully-realized dream.

But it was strange, still, to look at Sid so openly and feel entirely unashamed. It had been months—a whole season’s worth—and she felt all the time like someone might catch her, like someone might take one look at her and just _know_. 

It was silly; no one could see her thoughts. Except for Zhenya, who was eternally trying to start something, and, well—probably Sid, now. 

“You looked so good tonight,” Sid said, his hands running up her sides, kissing the corner of her mouth, her cheek, her jaw. “I tried to get Geno to lure you into the pool with us, but he was too chicken.” 

“In my dress?” She asked.

“You wouldn’t have to wear your dress,” Sid said. She felt his teeth against her neck, his hands sliding lower, under the hem, rucking it up toward her hips. He was terrible, and she was getting hot and sticky between her thighs. She wanted to take him to bed. 

“Let’s go to bed,” Anya said, letting out a long breath as Sid’s fingers brushed the lacy edge of her underwear. “Zhenya sleeps long enough.” Sid didn’t pull away, just tucked his fingers under the lace, his mouth sloppy on her collarbone, like he thought he knew best. 

“Sid—” she said, one hand clenched in the back of his wet hair, “upstairs, let’s go.” But he wouldn’t be swayed.

“Maybe we just stay down here,” he said, lips brushing the edge of her jaw, her earring. “Couch is plenty big.” And it was true; the couch was deep, not much less so than a single bed. Last winter, Sid had asked her over after practice and he and Zhenya had been curled up on it together, enough room for Sid’s wide body and Zhenya’s long legs to tangle up in sleep. 

He led her over to it, towing her along with the same hand he’d had under her dress, fingers a little tacky from where they’d swiped against her clit. “Everybody is leaving yet?” Anya asked, looking back at the dark window as Sid pulled her down onto the couch. 

“Not sure,” Sid asked, tugging her down further until her legs were straddling his hips. “Does it bother you?” 

Anya thought for a moment—maybe it did bother her, a little. Had someone seen them walk inside? Sometimes she felt paranoid, but she got a lot of mileage out of being Zhenya’s wife. Everyone had watched her be effusive with him, hands on his waist as he fed her champagne, tongue in his mouth as the camera crew fluttered around them. She was free to celebrate with Sid however she wished, now, in the privacy of Sid’s own home. No one would assume. 

“They’re all distracted by the cup,” Sid said, running his hands up her thighs. When she looked at his face, he was smiling wolfishly, his mouth deep pink in the dim light, dimple carving a familiar crease in his cheek. “They don’t know that I’ve got the real prize right here.”

She flushed clear down to her chest. He was so blatantly honest sometimes. Zhenya had told her something similar on the ice in Nashville, leaning down to kiss her, a giant in his skates. Sid wasn’t typically as loud as Zhenya was with his affections, but sometimes he, well. 

“Very sweet,” she said, and leaned over him to kiss his smiling mouth before he said anything else to embarrass her. Sid’s hands roamed her legs, her hips, under the full skirt of her dress. He played with the strings of her underwear and then grabbed her ass in two greedy palmfuls. 

“Let’s get this off,” he said, in between kisses, tongue flicking out to swipe her lip. The ceiling fan was whirring above them, and when she slipped the bodice of her dress down to pool at her waist, her nipples pebbled immediately in the cool air. 

Sid didn’t make a move at first, his hands warm on her ass under her bunched up dress, his mouth dropped open. Anya raised an eyebrow at him—she couldn’t believe how he was still like this, that dumbfounded expression on his face, like he couldn’t quite figure out if he was _actually_ permitted to touch her bared skin. 

He’d been touching her since November, and sometimes it still felt like the first time. Zhenya loved to tease him about it, when all three of them got into it. Sid had a hair trigger, and maybe sometimes it was a little inconvenient, but she loved to watch him sweat, his chest getting pink, his dick twitching and leaking under her palm.

Anya couldn’t recall a time when he hadn’t finished her off, or at least rolled her over to Zhenya, who liked to put up a fight about finishing someone else’s job, but was certainly no slouch when he got down to it. 

“Good?” she asked, putting one hand on Sid’s chest, rolling his necklace back and forth between her fingers. 

“I’m uh—” Sid said, and cleared his throat, the sound rumbling up through his chest. “I’m pretty good.” Anya fought not to laugh. His eyes were still glazed over—maybe from the bender the team had been on since Nashville, hopefully a little because of her. “You gonna take that all the way off?”

“Maybe leave on,” Anya said, and dragged one of his hands off of her ass, up over the gathered fabric to cup her breast. Everything under her skirt was warm: Sid’s trunks a damp heat over his chubbed up dick, the fabric swishing noisily when she shifted her hips. When she tried grinding down a little more purposefully, she looked him straight in the face and felt a hot rush of pride to watch him clench his eyes shut and groan.

“Anna—” he said, choked off, his eyelashes a tight, dark smudge across the tops of his cheeks. “Please—”

“I’m prize,” Anya said, smirking down at him. “What you want?” Her stomach was squirming, ripples moving in waves up her abdomen every time she caught her clit just right. Sometimes, she liked to finish him off just like this, rutting against him, her thighs tight around his thick hips. But she wanted him inside her tonight—she wanted to get fucked a little too hard, and she wanted to clench down and come on his dick and maybe make him carry her up to bed, after, when her legs were too fuzzy to move. 

“Champ’s choice, eh?” Sid asked, one of his eyebrows flicking up, not quite a wink. He thought he was so smooth; he was lucky she was so into it. 

“Mmm,” Anya said, and tugged at his waistband, eager to get him undressed all the way, to get him inside, where she was already unmistakably wet from his hands and the wine and the delicious friction of his fat dick between her legs. 

“Look who’s eager,” Sid said, laughing a little, low under his breath. One of his hands joined Anya’s at his waistband, and she felt herself flush hot with habitual embarrassment as he lifted his hips to tug the shorts off. She didn’t really have reason to feel so embarrassed. They both got this way, antsy and fired up after a few drinks. Zhenya liked to talk a big game, but mostly he passed out before anything got going. She and Sid had lovingly rolled him over and rutted against each other more times now than she could count. 

“Quiet,” she said. When she dropped a palm against his mouth, he smiled and licked it, clearly pleased with himself.

“You mind if I finish inside you?” he asked, after she removed her hand. “Not gonna last long.” Just thinking about it made Anya clench down a few times, her pussy twitching around empty air. His dick was bare against her now, and she knew it would be soaking wet the second she pushed her underwear aside. 

“For reward, maybe,” Anya said, even though she would do it probably any normal day. She didn’t love the cleanup, but she loved feeling it, warm skin against warm skin. Her period had recently come and gone. There wasn’t much to be concerned about. 

She reached down under her dress to tug her underwear out of the way, thankful she’d worn something skimpy enough to make it easy. Sid’s hands held tight at the crease of her hips, and she propped herself up a few inches to give him room to maneuver.

“You good?” He asked, one hand moving to position his dick, the head of it pressing just so against her opening—a delicious tease. 

“Good, yes, c’mon,” Anya choked out. She was possibly going to kill him, if he didn’t just get on with it.

He didn’t waste time, pressing in on the first try, using the hand on her hip to drag her down until he was fully seated inside of her. Anya clenched tight around the base for a second, shifting back and forth. Everything felt wet with sweat and slick with her arousal. 

“Touch yourself?” Sid asked as he pulled out and thrust back in, both of his hands on her hips to lift her up and down in his lap. Anya looked at his face, half shaded by the lamp light—his nose scrunched up, his chest rising and falling in deep breaths. 

She pressed her fingers against her clit through her underwear, the material soaked through, sticky, just enough friction as she rolled around and around—the way she liked to do when she was alone. On Sid’s face, she could see the signs of his orgasm fast approaching, his eyes clenched shut again, like looking at her might be too much. 

Anya could sympathise; looking at him was pretty close to too much. 

“Fuck, Anna—” he said, thrusting in deep enough to make her wince, but everything was so wet and she felt so wound up that she couldn’t seem to mind. She could feel her stomach knotting up, and she bore down harder on her fingers, bouncing forcefully in his lap. 

When she came, she clenched tight and tipped over onto Sid’s chest, her hair a wild mess in his face as he pulled her cheeks apart and thrust hard into her a few more times, groaning as he filled her. He stayed inside her as they breathed together, and outside she could hear the faint sound of a car engine starting up—the stragglers finally heading home.

“God,” Sid said, his breath a hot puff against her hair. “You’re the best.” 

“Don’t let Zhenya hear you say,” she laughed, even though Zhenya told her she was the best probably twice a day, flatterer that he was. 

Sid laughed in turn. “Maybe there’s two bests,” he said, and brushed her hair aside and kissed the corner of her jaw, behind her ear—syrupy sweet. 

“Carry me?” Anya asked, because her legs felt exactly the consistency of jello. Sid liked to pretend he wasn’t a pushover, but she knew he would say yes. 

“Mmm, sure—” Sid said sleepily, softly patting her ass a few times. She could feel his dick soft now, close to slipping out, his come a wet mess between her legs. “Clean up first?” 

Anya knew she probably should—it was unladylike to go to bed without brushing her teeth, and her skin would surely not thank her tomorrow, but she didn’t feel much like caring. All she really wanted was to curl up sweaty between them, her two favorite, terrible, wonderful men. Today had been a day for celebration; real life could return tomorrow, or the next day. 

“Mmm,” she said, and lifted herself up to watch his face as she said it, “Maybe I let Zhenya clean your mess up in morning, you know how he likes.” 

Sid bloomed pink all across his face, his eyes dark, like maybe he would try to convince himself to go again just for that. Anya imagined just how it would happen, how Zhenya would smile against her pussy when he realized, how Sid would kiss her hair, his dick a hard line against her back.

“Yeah,” Sid said, and tugged her down for a quick, smiling kiss. “Yeah, I do.”


End file.
